The Ace of The Deck
by firecrackermage
Summary: On the night Scott was turned into a werewolf, two new arrivals come to Beacon Hills and they're looking for something. They may look human, but they aren't. The werewolves thought they were the only supernatural creatures prowling the place, but they're about to get a nasty wake up call. OC, OC, Stiles, Derek, Lydia, Jackson, Danny, Allison, Erica, Allison, Scott, Boyd, Issac.
1. Prologue

_**Prologue**_

"_**Many things appear lost and hidden**_

_**but a certain light gives them life.**_

_**Twilight gives everything an opaque **_

_**glow making it appear solid like stone.**_

_**Many sounds, both imaginary and genuine,**_

_**ricochet around the darkness creating **_

_**fear and a sense of being gone astray.**_

_**Forests are found on either side,**_

_**both black and dead; all the**_

_**trees deformed into eerie formations,**_

_**each one seems to strangle another.**_

_**The owl holes seem to possess jagged teeth,**_

_**like a wild animal beholds.**_

_**Suddenly, the only light is provided by**_

_**a whole and bright moon; a wolf howls**_

_**in the distance.**_

_**Twilight has gone, everything appears**_

_**dead, even the moon is surrounded by**_

_**a few spine-chilling clouds.**_

_**Everything has gone silent; something**_

_**appears to move; leaves rustle raising**_

_**one's hair.**_

_**Without warning, everything has gone black,**_

_**like a great darkness has engulfed one's soul.**_

_**Sadly this is not so for one has become part**_

_**of the surrounding land, both dead and living.**__**"**_

_**- Leighann Anderson, Mysterious Forest**_

It was dark when they came.

The velvet night greeted them as they trailed through the woods, faint lights blinking at them from a far. Silence swirled around them, hushing the hoots of owls and the rummaging of foxes. The fallen leaves never crunched under their feet as they continued on and animals did not stir as they passed. The pair were each consumed in their own thoughts and of the task ahead of them.

Yes, that's right. There was two of them. A girl and a boy. Both of them were different and the same. But that is a story for another time.

The trees were almost opaque in the dim lighting of the moon, their branches becoming withered hands that beckoned them to come closer. Bright eyes blinked up at them and regarded them with little interest. Black shadows slunk through the bushes and the sound of soft paws stalking their unfortunate prey could be heard in the distance. Grey fog clung to the floor of the forest, adding a sense of mystery. It almost brought the phrase _The Witching Hour _to life.

The moon in the clear star adorned sky was large and intimidating. It was almost full. The glow it cast made the forest seem like one of those haunted houses you would see at the County Fair. But instead of plastic props and painted sheets, the terrors residing here were more then real.

The forest seemed almost alive. Not with nocturnal animals coming out to feast, but with something else. Something ferocious and _angry. _The two travellers could almost feel it thrashing and fighting savagely. They shared a knowing look. Something evil and animalistic was pulsating through the premises. And that was not good, not at all. Especially with a town full of unsuspecting people were so close by.

As this thought crossed their minds, the woods went eerily quiet. It was almost suffocating and sent a warning chill down their spines. All the busy night life activities that had been quietly going on instantly stopped. It was like someone had flicked a switch. Something was definitely going on around here.

As the two reached the edge of the green fortress, they heard a single howl. A wolf's howl. Both parties looked at each other. Slowly, their mouths curved into two predatory smiles. It seemed that they were not the only two of speculated tales wandering through the woods tonight.

But they did not go to investigate. No, that would be too easy. The two were interested, yes, but not so much that they would risk unveiling themselves. They had to blend in. They had to be as quiet as ghosts, for that was their mission. To remain invisible and watch.

They spared one more glance in the direction of the disturbance before they walked on. _Another time, _they thought, as they melted into the shadows. All that was left to be seen was two pairs of glowing eyes and a flash of malicious smiles.

_And may we have mercy on your souls when that time comes._


	2. Chapter 1: New Kids On The Block

Chapter 1: New Kids On The Block

"_**Be like snow: beautiful but cold.**__**"**_

It was about a week after Allison had joined the school that rumours arose about two new students that were transferring to Beacon Hills from a different county. The whole student body was buzzing about these new individuals. Even Scott couldn't escape the excitement, partly because Stiles wouldn't _shut up_ about it.

'I heard that one of them is a girl,' Stiles said, the hopefulness in his voice amusing the other boy slightly. 'I wonder what country they're from? Can they speak English? Are they-'

'Stiles, calm down, alright? We'll know when we see them,' Scott interrupted, impatience colouring his tone.

His friend raised an eyebrow at him. 'I'm guessing things with your better half aren't going well?' Scott just scowled at the floor. 'Uh huh, that's what I thought.'

'Alright meatbags, pay attention!' shouted Coach Finstock, who slammed his hands down on his desk to quieten his class. He straighten himself and pulled out a small piece of paper. 'We have a new student joining us today. She's not from this country so don't give her a hard time, you worthless weasels,' he warned and motioned for someone at the door to come in.

In a swirl of red and black, the two boys saw her. Red because her hair was a a rich red colour and black because of the leather jacket that hugged her body. She was tall, around 5 ft 8, and when she raised her head, they noticed how fiercely beautiful she was. Fierce being the key word there. She had a pale complexion and a pair of blazing green-blue eyes that regarded the whole classroom in distain.

'Well, Miss D'Arcy, how about you introduce yourself to the class?' Coach Finstock suggested, obviously anxious to get the pleasantries out of the way. From where Scott was sitting, he could see the look of pain flicker over her pretty features and, thanks to his super werewolf hearing, he heard a small sigh pass her lips.

'Hello everyone,' she greeted. Her voice was strong and musical and she spoke quickly. She had an accent he couldn't quite place. 'My name is Sorcha D'Arcy.' At that, the whole class blinked and titled their heads in confusion. 'Sir-ick-a?' voiced Coach, confusion colouring his features like the rest of the class, along with Scott and Stiles. 'Sir-a-cha,' she corrected, unimpressed with his poor attempt at pronouncing her name.

The girl, Sorcha, gave Coach Finstock a look that said, 'can-I-sit-down-now?' but he just gestured for her to continue with the self analysis. She rolled her eyes and said, 'I'm from Ireland, if you haven't already guessed by the accent. Also, if some of you exceptionally intelligent people start calling me a Paddy or a drunk or trash, I'll warn you now: I won't be held responsible for my actions.'

_Well, _Scott thought, _that explains the accent. _He turned to his best friend to contemplate with him on the girl's blatant threat of violence, but stopped when he seen the expression on his face. Stiles mouth was gaping open and his eyes were large and awestruck. Scott looked at him, bemused. _He's a sucker for a pretty face and red hair. _

Coach Finstock grinned at the redhead, probably because she didn't seem afraid of conflict, and told her to find herself a seat. There were only two free chairs left and both of them put her sitting behind Stiles and Scott. As she passed him, Scott could almost see the Ice Queen aura that she seemed to radiate, but something odd struck him. He couldn't smell anything as she walked by. The only reason this caught his attention was because he had begun to notice everyone had a scent, whether it be faint or pungent. This girl was completely odourless. There wasn't even a whiff of soap or sweat on her.

Scott brushed the thought away though, it probably wasn't too uncommon for someone to not possess a scent. Right?

From the corner of his eye, he could see that Stiles had twisted around in his seat to gawk at Sorcha. He glanced back at her and he had to repress the urge to gasp. At close range her beauty was almost intoxicating. She had pink, full lips and thick, dark eyelashes that cast a shadow on her cheeks and made her eyes look hooded and mysterious. And he also realised that her green-blue eyes looked unusually icy, like if they were focused on you long enough, your blood would freeze.

And then Stiles started talking to her.

'Hey,' he whispered, waving at her excitedly. 'I'm Stiles.' She looked at him and Scott could see that his friend was feeling nervous under her cold, calculating gaze, because he started pulling at his fingers. After what seemed like an eternity of suffering silence, she spoke. 'Hello Stiles,' she replied, nodding at him. Scott guessed it was how they greeted people where she was from, though all he could do was assume.

Stiles, who Scott thought was recovering from the 'freeze ray' incident remarkably fast, smiled at her awkwardly, but Sorcha had fixed her attention on Coach Finstock, who was giving out to some poor soul in the front row for talking. Scott leaned back, feeling like he should be polite and introduce himself to her. 'I'm Scott.'

She glanced at him and gave him the same cold stare that she gave Stiles, but it was different somehow. It was like she was sizing him up for a fight, but all she did was nod at him and say 'hello.'

At least she didn't threaten to give him a black eye.

-

Sorcha honestly felt like ripping her hair out. Not only had she to go to this crummy excuse for a school, it wasn't like her last one had been any better, but she had go to class today. It wasn't of her own free will, of course. If she had had her way, she would have stayed at home for the week and then might have considered going to school. _Might _have considered going. And her classmates were only adding to this lovely little slice of her own personal hell.

They were so _nosey. _They asked all kinds of intrusive questions about her time before she came here but she had brushed them off with an icy stare and single word answers. And for the most part it had worked beautifully. But then she'd managed to run into Twiddle Dum and Twiddle Dummer, a.k.a Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall.

Scott didn't ask questions, but his presence was somewhat annoying. Stiles was another kettle of fish entirely. He didn't stop talking and was constantly in movement. _ADHD, _Sorcha thought, noticing the symptoms. She remembered a boy at her previous school, St. Enda's, having the same problem. His movements never ceased and he had to take Adderall to stay focused.

All through Coach Finstock's class, she didn't even know what subject he was teaching because all he seemed to do was roar abuse at the cowering students in the front, Stiles tried to converse with her. Even though she ignored his steady stream of babbling, he still kept going, and Scott encouraged him by joining in. The sudden urge to bolt for the door became increasingly tempting as each minute passed.

Then, finally, the bell rang. Sorcha was up and out the door, bag in hand, in one quick movement. She heard someone calling after but she was walking so fast that the person couldn't catch up even if they wanted to.

The next few classes went by in a blur, most likely because she barely paid attention to what the teachers had to say. It was stuff she had already done, so there was really no point in listening. She knew it all anyway. Lunch came around then and she had to go to the cafeteria. _Great._ As she went into the area, all she could do was compare it to all the American movies she had watched over the years. It was nothing like the poorly supplied Cantine her last school. It just seemed so... so _foreign. _

She claimed the table beside the window and pulled out a chicken sandwich from her bag. It wasn't a fancy lunch, but all she needed was something that she could digest at this point, which was almost anything in the category of 'food.'

'I see you survived the last few unbearable classes,' mused a lyrical voice she knew all too well. 'Well,' said Sorcha, grinning like a wolf, 'looks like you're still in one piece, little brother.' A boy with dark brown hair, which was gelled to the side for the 'bad boy' appeal, and blazing green-blue eyes that mirrored her own, sat across from her. 'Only just,' he chuckled, scoffing down his own sandwich.

'Liam, we may be at a new school, but that doesn't mean you can act like a pig,' she reprimanded, running a hand through her auburn hair. Liam rolled his eyes and continued wolfing down his food. The people around them glanced in their direction every so often, all trying to get a look at the two new students that were eating together. Ever since they had become teenagers, people had a hard time figuring out that they were brother and sister. But seeing them flustered and embarrassed amused the two so much that they barely ever told anyone they were siblings.

'So, did you see him?' Liam asked through chugs of his water. 'I saw him,' she replied inaudibly. They didn't need any eavesdroppers.

'Which class?'

'That idjit's, Coach Finstock, class. I haven't a clue what he teaches yet,' Sorcha admitted, tracing patterns across the table. Someone really needed to clean it.

'Is it the one we're looking for?'

She shook her head and glanced over her shoulder at the individual in question. 'But he'll lead us to him.'

The two siblings shared a devious smile and changed the conversation topic to comparing their old psychotic teachers with their new ones and obnoxious students that had caught their attention, whether it was good or bad attention. And when the bell rang for students to head for class, they both parted and returned to playing the beautiful but cold roles they were so good at playing.

-

It was at the end of school that Sorcha was approached by two girls.

One had strawberry blonde hair and even Sorcha knew who she was, though it was her firsty day, from whispers of classmates commenting on her outfit and her Queen Bee walk. Lydia Martin was her name. And she was flanked by a shy looking brunette who had transferred in the week before Sorcha and her brother. Allison Argent. She knew the dark haired girl's family name all too well.

Before she could peel out of there quicker then a banana spilt, an arm looped around her own. _Oh shit._ She met dark green eyes and a magazine cover face and tried her best not to cringe at the contact. 'Helloooo,' drawled out Lydia, fluttering her eyelashes and surveying Sorcha's attire and her facial features. 'You're the new girl, right? Sorcha?' The Irish girl nodded in response but said nothing. Silence seemed the way to make this less painful for her.

Lydia's face scrunched up, as if she was mulling something over, but it smoothed out quickly afterwards and she just beamed at the other girl. 'I'm Lydia Martin,' she said, gesturing to herself. She then pointed to her companion. 'This is my BFF, Allison Argent.' The brunette waved at Sorcha with a sweet smile and she gave a tiny a wave back. It was only to be polite. 'And we were wondering if you'd like to go with us to the game Saturday night,' she continued, smiling so brightly that it was like peering up at an artificial sun. 'Is it Football?' Sorcha asked, mindful to keep her accent from becoming thick and hard to understand. The strawberry blonde let out a small laugh and gripped the other redhead's arm tighter. 'No, no, no. It's Lacrosse!'

At that, she had to suppress a smirk. Back at her old school, they had a teacher from Canada teaching them Geography and he had spoke of Lacrosse to them during one of his many lengthy rants. He had said it was, 'The game of Kings.' When the class had seen the video of a Lacrosse game, someone at the back of the Geography had shouted, 'It's just a pansy version of Hurling!' But that was just a matter of opinion. An opinion that probably wouldn't go down well here.

'Ah,' Sorcha said, trying to put on her best 'fake-that-you're-sorry' voice, 'but I'm still unpacking stuff at home.' Lydia just blinked at her like she had said that most insane thing she had ever heard. Allison, who noticed this, started to tow her friend away. 'Some other time maybe?' the brunette called. Sorcha nodded and almost bolted towards the exit. _Like hell that's gonna happen._

As Sorcha started towards her brother's car, she spotted a familiar dark head watching what seemed like Lacrosse training. _Liam, _she thought, _what the hell are you doing?_ She stalked over the field to where her younger brother was standing. He was watching something intently and his eyes narrowed every so often. She followed her brother's gaze and stopped in her tracks when she was beside him.

Scott, who she assumed was Scott at least, was charging forward at another player and when they collided, Scott had the other guy practically airborn. 'He just dislocated that guy's shoulder,' Sorcha whispered to her brother, her lips barely moving. A crowd had formed around the fallen player and beside them, Scott was clutching at his helmet. 'He doesn't look like he's holding up too well either,' Liam murmured back, jerking his head in Scott's direction. Stiles rushed over to him and started to drag him away from the field towards the locker room.

'He won't last long at this rate,' the redhead commented, shaking her head slightly. Suddenly, the two siblings felt a presence and turned around slowly. There, behind the bleachers, stood a bulky, brooding man with dark hair. He was looking at Scott as he was being pulled away. Suddenly, as if feeling eyes on him, his gaze fixed on the brother and sister pair. The tension that arose between their locked eyes was like electricity crackling.

It was a few minutes before he turned on his heel and stalked off to the cover of the forest. 'He's not it either,' Liam stated, strolling back with Sorcha to his car. 'Patience is a virtue,' sang the redhead as she opened the car door. 'Patience can kiss my pale white ass,' the brunette shot back. Sorcha rolled her eyes. This was going to be a fun trip home. _Not._


	3. Chapter 2: Down To An Art

_**Chapter 2: Down To An Art**_

"_**Perfect practise makes perfect.**__**"**_

A loud bang ricocheted through the house, signalling Liam was back from the food run. Sorcha was in the living room flicking through mindless reality shows and taking a handful of popcorn very few minutes. 'Did you get the stuff for the dinner?' she asked, putting down the remote and wandering into the kitchen where her brother was unpacking the shopping. 'Yeah, I did,' he answered, pulling out a packet of Minstrels. 'These count as a wholesome meal, right?'

Sorcha stifled a snigger and elbowed him in the stomach. 'About as wholesome as an injection of fat in your backside.' At this, Liam raised an eyebrow at her in a mocking fashion. 'Oh, I can almost smell the yummy aromas from your statement,' he retorted. The two of them chuckled loudly and went about searching the kitchen for cooking utensils.

The moving company had delivered everything on Friday evening and they had spent most of Saturday morning unpacking and placing things around their new home. And now it was Saturday night, the night of the Lacrosse game, and they were starving from all their hard work. So they were having Lasagne as a treat.

'I heard Derek Hale was jailed for murder,' Liam said, reaching for the can of tomato purée. 'I know,' responded Sorcha as she turned on the oven. 'Scott and Stiles were digging a hole outside the Hale house and found a body.' Her brother gave her a sharp look. 'How did you know it was them?' She smiled at him and tapped her nose. 'A good magician does not reveal her secrets.' Liam frowned slightly but nodded. 'You're right. I think they've a death wish going up against him though.' The redhead hummed in agreement and then they fell into comfortable silence as they cooked.

Soon enough, the Lasagne was prepared and put in the oven to cook. The two of them were dusted with flour from the flour fight that had broke out earlier and they were just cleaning themselves up when Liam came up with an idea. A _bad _idea. 'Let's go to the game,' he stated brightly, flashing his sister his best persuasive smile. She just glowered back at him. 'No,' she said simply as she stalked into the living room. 'Aw, c'mon Sorcha! I want to see those players beat the daylights out of each other,' he beamed. She gave him an exasperated look. 'No, we are not going to that stupid game to watch damn meatheads beat the crap out each other,' she explained sternly. 'Besides, I blew off two girls who invited me to go and I don't want to get involved in any cat fights.' Liam simply rolled his eyes. 'Live a little, Sorcha. Besides, it's not like we have ways around them seeing us.' She sighed and felt the fight in her diminish.

'15 minutes tops.'

The two siblings were hidden beneath the cover of the bleachers while they ate their Lasagne and watched the game. They didn't know the rules, but every time someone got hit, they cheered. They had figured out that the captain was named Jackson and that he was the boy that Scott had collided with previously. He seemed to be the very definition of an all-American jock. Hard-headed, competitive, handsome, privileged and an asshole. Yeah, a jock through and through.

Sorcha spotted Scott on the field, he was on first line, and she also saw Stiles perched on the bench, cheering on his friend. _Must suck, _she thought absent mindedly, taking another bite of her Lasagne. 'He's going to lose it,' whispered Liam, shoving a mountain-full of food into his mouth. She could only nod in response. There was nothing she could say that her brother didn't already know. She glanced up at the moon. It was full and foreboding. It cast an eerie light on the scene before them. Almost as if it was trying to warn a certain person of the events that would most likely take place.

The game was nearly at it's end and they had spent more then 15 minutes observing the game. Then a chill went down Sorcha's spine and her head snapped up and she zeroed in on Scott. He had scored the winning goal but instead of joining the rejoicing crowd, he was running to the locker room. She glanced at her brother and he shook his head. Now was not the time.

She blew out a sigh and stood up, stretching like cat after a nap. 'Let's go, I'm bored now,' she informed her brother, who just gave her a bemused expression, but got up with her. As they neared the parking lot, Sorcha could hear someone calling her name. She turned and surveyed the withdrawing crowd, trying to spot the source and when she found it, she groaned loudly.

'Hey Sorcha,' Stiles greeted, jogging up to the redhead, smiling like an addict who'd be given his daily dose. 'Oh, hello Stiles,' she said in return, giving him an icy, tight-lipped smile. She wasn't very good at this 'friends' stuff. 'You remembered my name!' he squealed, looking like a child at Christmas. She felt like she was going to crack under all the happy feelings the sickly pale guy was giving off. 'Well, we do take Economics together,' explained the redhead. _And you never shut up during that class. _Still, the boy grinned at her happily. That is, until he caught sight of Liam, who had been silent throughout the transaction.

Stiles was eyeing him suspiciously and all Sorcha could do was sigh. Why did her brother have to give off that 'I-can-take-you' atmosphere? She coughed loudly, drawing the pale boy's attention back to her and gestured to Liam. 'This is my younger brother, Liam,' she stated, taking in Stiles' wide-eyed expression. 'Oh. Ooooh,' he said, as if Sorcha's explanation somehow proved what he had been previously thinking. From the corner of her eye, she could see that smug look on her brother's face that always made her want to slap him. She hated it. 'Nice to meet you,' Liam said, giving Stiles his first class smirk. The other boy did nothing but blink at him, stupefied. Uncomfortable silence soon manifested between the trio and she could see that Stiles was fidgeting under the watchful gazes of the two siblings.

'Maybe you should go check on Scott,' Sorcha suggested, motioning towards the locker room. 'He didn't seem too well after the game.' Stiles simply nodded, obviously distracted by something, and started walking in the direction Scott had gone. Her brother's smirk intensified as the other boy's silhouette grew smaller. 'You sure do know how to pick 'em,' he commented, nudging his sister playfully. 'Oh, shut up,' she snapped at him, narrowing her eyes at him in a mocking manner. 'I have seen the girls you brought home and trust me when I say that none of them were the prize of the litter.' The two laughed as they strolled back to Liam's car. And then she remembered.

'Aw crap,' she groaned, kicking the ground in annoyance. 'What?' Liam asked. 'I left the Lasagne dish behind,' she explained, tapping the frame of the door, furious at her forgetfulness. 'I'll go get, I'll be 5 minutes.' Sorcha turned and trudged out to the field in search of the missing dish.

As she drew nearer, she saw two figures standing out in the open. And she recognised them. One was Jackson and the other was Derek Hale. Looks like they'd let him out of jail, though it probably wasn't because of good behaviour. Sorcha spotted the dish and grabbed it, suddenly feeling like she wasn't supposed to witness this. But curiosity got the better of her.

She peered through the gaps in the bleachers and watched the two males quietly. They were talking about something and just as she began to focus on what they were saying, her phone buzzed. She rolled her eyes dramatically, guessing it was Liam, who had probably grown impatient or worried, but as she glanced at the Caller ID, it said it was an unknown number. That spiked worry in her stomach. She knew who it was.

'Yes?' she said, her voice taking on a business-like tone.

'Nice to hear from you too, love,' retorted the man on the other end, his comment dripping with sarcasm. Sorcha looked up to heaven in exasperation. _This idiot again._

'I see you're still alive and your sense of humour is as dry as ever,' she threw back at him. 'What do you want?'

'Did you find it yet?'

'No, we haven't found it yet_. _If you'd let us go look for it outside this dead end town, we'd have got it by Day 1,' Sorcha hissed, her temper suddenly flaring up.

'Looks like you'll just have to wait it out. It'll have to show up there at some point.'

She just rubbed her temples and let out another sigh. She was doing it a lot lately. 'That's easy for you to say, you're not the one who's brain is slowly dying from conversing with idiots and jocks. It's exactly like those crappy movies we used to watch when we were kids.'

There was a rumble of laughter on the other line. 'I suppose you're right,' he agreed, 'but you need to wait, dear.'

Another a few minutes of deliberating, she huffed out a simple 'fine' and ended the call. There was nothing more they could do or say. Sorcha shoved the phone into her pocket and peered through the bleachers again. She couldn't spot Derek or Jackson out there, but she could feel eyes on her.

'I know you're there, you might as well come out,' she warned, turning around to glare at her spectator. And there, in all his chiselled glory, was Derek Hale, the handsome, newly released convict. It was like the day her and her brother had first caught sight of him, they simply stared at each other while the tension rose. 'I've seen you before,' he said, his voice deep and rough, she noted. 'During Lacrosse practise.'

'Funny how I don't feel like swooning at that sentence,' Sorcha replied, her voice as cold and hard as ice. The two continued their stare down for a while before anything else was said. His dark green eyes surveyed her, looking for any hidden weak spots that he could use. Even if she did have any, he wouldn't win. No one would ever win.

'You don't...smell.' The words rolled off his tongue awkwardly, as if by saying this, he was giving away something he shouldn't have. But Sorcha just smirked at him. 'Probably because I bathe,' she shot back smartly.

In the back of her mind, she thought of her brother in the car, well past annoyance and nearly borderline volcanic eruption, but something about the dark haired individual kept her there. She always did like to suss out the competition before she got started. She could use the information she gathered in the later phases of the game. Derek narrowed his eyes at her, obviously distrusting of her easy going manner. 'What are you?' he growled, his body leaning forward as if he was preparing to pounce on her. 'A girl, I believe. I _would _let you check to make sure, but you'd have to buy me dinner first,' she smiled at him.

He let out something that was almost a roar. 'I'm not in the mood for games! _Tell me what you are!'_ He started to move but he looked like he was frozen in place. He thrashed about, but he still couldn't move. He glared at Sorcha, who simply watched the scene in front of her with cold eyes, her smile completely vanished. She strolled over to Derek leisurely until she was right in his face. 'You don't scare me,' she said icily, 'And if you dare threaten me again, I'll make sure you end up so broken, you'll wish I had finished you off.' Then she smiled at him sweetly and stalked off towards the parking lot. She heard him fall to the ground as soon as she tapped the glass of the car window. Liam gave her a knowing look when she climbed into the vehicle.

It was Monday morning when Liam saw the bus.

The back door was almost completely ripped off it's hinges and bloody smudges and hand prints covered the inside and outside of the bus. The police didn't know it yet, but the bus driver had been the cause of the blood. He'd been attacked. And he knew exactly by who. Liam and Sorcha took in the sight before they were ushered off the premises. 'It hasn't a place for kids,' they had said. They weren't even original with their excuses.

As Liam reached his locker, he felt his older sister tap his shoulder and jerk her thumb behind her. She was trying, and failing, at holding back her laughter. He scanned over her head and burst out laughing with her. Jackson's locker was completely busted up, courtesy of a little morning anxiety. The two D'Arcys had to hold on to each to keep themselves from falling over. It was going to be one of those days again.

'I'll see you at lunch,' Sorcha said, gulping down air to keep herself composed. 'Try not to stir up too much trouble.' He gave his sister an unimpressed look but nodded. He might as well keep one promise intact while he was here. It might be a nice change of pace, though he seriously doubted it.

As he waved her off, he could see the walls draw up around his sister. It was the same thing he did, but with her it was more serious. _Now's not that time to think about that_, he told himself as he wandered into his English class. He sat down at the back so he could be as far away from the teacher as possible. He had never really liked school, but got decent grades, so he was never in a spot of bother about the whole ordeal.

He couldn't get his mind off of what had happened last night though. He knew exactly what had happened when Sorcha had returned to the car 20 minutes later then she had promised. He knew his sister could handle herself, and others, very well, but he didn't think the game would get kick started so suddenly. Things were going to be exciting, just like he'd been promised.

The class ended shortly afterwards and each class after it flew by. He talked to his classmates about unimportant matters and barely interacted with the teachers. Some of the Lacrosse players had even mustered the courage to chat with him. Since last night, he'd taken an interest in the sport. It was rough and looked like it would give him an adrenaline boost. He'd talk about it with Sorcha later.

He was sitting beside the window so he had a clear view of the bus driver being carted out into the ambulance. _Thought as much. _Someone cried out about it and everyone in the class rushed to get a look at the man in the stretcher. Liam watched the scene, bored out of his mind. He'd seen too many of these events in his short time on this Earth. More then a normal person should have seen. But then again, he wasn't normal.

The bell then rang, signalling that lunch was here. Liam felt his stomach growl ferociously as he pushed open the door. He glanced over the room, trying to spot the dark red head of his kin, only to see that the table that was 'owned', a term he used loosely, by the popular people had been infiltrated by the two idiots that Sorcha had mentioned. Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski. Liam eyed the table cautiously, like it was a snake that was likely to strike at any given moment. A head turned and his icy green-blue eyes met bright green ones. Lydia Martin smiled flirtatiously and winked at him. The girl was sex in heels but not his type, so he just smirked and gave her the cold shoulder. _I spend way too much time with Sorcha that I'm starting to act like her ._

And speak of the Devil, he saw her at the corner of the cafeteria glaring at her phone. He was surprised she hadn't slammed it against the table yet. He would have. 'Did you notice how classes fly by and around here?' Liam inquired, taking a large bite out of his apple. Sorcha peered up at him under her dark eyelashes in amusement. 'I did. I also noticed that Mr. Harris is a spastick without a life and enjoys torturing young victims for a hobby,' she yawned, rolling the bottle of water she had between her palms. He hummed in response and went about feeding his stomach. 'I have to take Cinders to the vet after school,' she told him, a stern tone to her voice. 'You've to go to the hospital.'

Liam raised an eyebrow at her. 'Liam,' she warned, giving him that hard look that could break anyone. 'You have to go to the hospital for _that_.'

'I will, I will, don't get your knickers in a twist,' he replied, brushing off his sister's reproachful gaze.

Great. He had to play detective while she got the cat checked. _Great._

When Sorcha got Cinders into the Animal Clinic, she felt him tense. She rubbed his belly, trying to smooth him and send him messages that everything was okay. She knew something was wrong though and he knew it too. 'Hello?' she called, knocking on the inside of the glass door. A dark skinned man came out with a younger boy in tow. _Just my luck, _she thought.

'Well, if it isn't Sorcha D'Arcy,' boomed the older man. 'I see you've stopped by for a quick visit.'

'Something like that, Deaton,' she mused, keeping a firm grip on Cinders. She didn't want him gunning for Scott. 'This is Scott,' said Deaton, pointing to the younger boy. 'I know,' she told him and managed to flash a smile in Scott's direction. The brunette flushed bright red and stuttered back a greeting. Deaton watched the transaction carefully. 'So how can I help?' he asked, smiling at her. They hadn't seen each other in a very long time.

Sorcha lifted up the black and white tom cat and passed him to the bald man. 'He's here for a check-up, Sir,' she explained, scratching Cinders head lovingly. 'I don't think he's taking to the food here.' Deaton nodded understandingly and gave the cat to Scott, who looked down at the animal in fear. But he did nothing but stay still. _Good boy, _she thought, feeling a sudden surge of pride.

'Oh, hello,' said a new voice. Sorcha whipped her head around and came face to face with Sheriff Stilinski. She could see the resemblance between him and his son. He had a police dog with him, most likely getting him checked. But what caught her attention was the file in his hand. Deaton greeted him warmly and had a look at the files when the Sheriff asked him to take a look at them. She was standing behind Deaton and she nonchatantly glanced at them and sighed in disappointment. It was everything she already knew. _Damn, _she thought, feeling her anger spark.

The sheriff looked at her then and Deaton, already guessing what he was about to ask, said, 'That's Sorcha D'Arcy, she just moved her a week ago. Sorcha, this is Sheriff Stilinski' The two regarded each other with quiet interest before Sorcha stuck out her hand. 'Nice to meet you, Sheriff.' The other man took her hand in a strong grip. 'Nice to meet you too, Sorcha. I hope you're not one of the rowdy ones,' he joked, releasing her hand. She gave him a blinding smile. 'Where I'm from, I'm considered the closet thing to an angel.' At this, the man chuckled and resumed his conversation with Deaton.

Sorcha edged for the door, but before she left, she shouted, 'I'll be back tomorrow for him!'

There was something she needed to do.

Derek pulled up to the gas station, his mind filled with the red haired vixen he'd met on Saturday night. He had got no scent from her at all, something that was impossible. Even _corpses _had a scent. Something was very, _very _wrong. And the fact that she had somehow prevented him from moving only heightened his sense of danger.

As he began to fill his car with petrol, two bulky jeeps pulled up on either side of him. He got a foreboding feeling and knew in his gut that this wasn't going to be good. To his dismay, he was right.

Chris Argent clambered out of one of the jeeps blocking any escape and strolled over to his car, placing a hand on the black surface.

'Nice ride,' he complimented, running a hand over the hood. 'Black cars though...very hard to keep clean.' As he said this, he shook his head disapprovingly 'I would definitely suggest a little more maintenance,' he urged, giving Derek a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He went over and got a wiper and started to clean the window shield of the black Camaro. 'When you have something this nice, you want to take care of it. Personally, I'm very protective of the things I love.' He started cleaning the window with a little more force then was needed.

'That's something I learned from my family,' he informed Derek, giving him a sly glance. 'You don't have a family. Or much of that, these days.' Now he was facing him, his blue eyes glowing with some sort of sick satisfaction. 'Do you?'

Derek balled his hand into a fist, a burning rage spreading through out his body like poison. That was what the Argents were. _Poison. _But he let his hand fall when he seen the look in Chris' eyes. 'There you go,' said the older man, 'You can actually see through your window shield now. Makes everything so much clearer.' He put back the wiper and started to retreat back to his car.

But Derek couldn't let it go.

'You forgot to check the oil,' he grounded out, finally finding his voice. Chris looked back at him and then nodded at one of his goons leaning against the other jeep. 'Check the man's oil,' he ordered. The man in question straighten and stalked over to other side of the car. He had a bat in his hand and used it to smash Derek's window. 'Look's good to me,' the goon sneered, returning to the jeep.

Chris smiled. 'Drive safely,' he said to Derek. It sounded more like a threat then a friendly piece of advice. The men got back into their jeeps and drove off, leaving the werewolf alone with his damaged car.

Or so he thought.

Unbeknownst to him, there had been someone watching the whole scene from afar. The only tell tale sign of their presence were their eyes.

Glowing eyes.

'_Argent,' _spat the individual, their eyes' glow intensifying. _'Stupid little creatures that run a muck shall only meet ruin by their own hands.'_

The hospital was dark and cold when Liam decided to hold up his end of the bargain he'd made with his sister. He had located the room of the bus driver, Meyers, and was about to open the door when he heard someone talking. He sneaked a glance inside and confirmed his previous doubts. It was Derek Hale.

'Open your eyes,' he ordered, his voice booming and loud in the quiet room. There was no response, only the beep of the man's heart rate. 'Open your eyes,' he repeated impatiently. Liam peered through the crack in the door and looked at the bus driver. His face was scratched and bloody, his breathing raspy and short. _That bastard, _he thought, though his comment was not directed at Derek,. Then he stopped moving because something about this scene brought back memories. Memories that should've stayed dead.

But Liam was pulled out of his train of thought when Meyer opened his eyes, which looked wide and afraid. 'Look at me,' whispered the dark haired man looming over the hospital bed. When the old man raised his head to get a glimpse at the speaker, Derek asked, 'What do you remember?'

'Hale,' Meyers stated simply. He looked like he seeing his very own personal nightmare play out before him. Derek gave him a perplexed expression. 'How do you know my name?' He inquired.

But the man didn't answer him.

'I'm sorry,' Meyers whimpered helplessly.

'How do you know me?' demanded the younger man, fear appearing to make him agitated. Liam could see it in his face. The fear he couldn't keep hidden from the Irish boy's sharp eyes.

'I'm sorry,' the old man echoed again, laying back down. If it wasn't for the steady beep of the machine, Liam would have thought he was dead. He didn't know how wrong he was.

Somehow, Liam had got it into his head that if he followed Derek, it would answer some of their questions. And that's what he did, though in the back of his mind, he could almost hear Sorcha telling him what a bad idea this was. And just this once, he'd have to agree with her.

That's when Scott arrived, accusing Derek of murdering his own sister and killing the bus driver. Suddenly, the memory of the hospital came back, but Liam pushed it down. He needed to focus on what was going on within the Hale house. As he looked at the broken house before him, he was reminded of the time when he was younger and his sister had made a promise. _A promise..._he pondered. He knew that it meant something to him, but he couldn't grasp it.

A loud crash drew his attention back to Scott and Derek. They were brawling, throwing each other against walls and growling at each other in a threatening manner. They had _shifted. _Derek caught the younger werewolf by the throat and repeatedly threw him down onto the floor. Then Scott was kicked violently and as he tried to get up and pounce on the older man, he was struck in the stomach.

'Neither of us killed him,' explained Derek after he had shifted back to normal, along with Scott. 'It's neither of our faults.' Scott looked at him in disbelief.

'This is all your fault! You _ruined _my life!' he shouted at green eyed man, standing up from his fallen spot on a barely intact couch.

'No I didn't,' grounded out Derek, his voice strained and angry.

'You're the who bit me,' spat the younger boy.

'No, I'm not.'

Scott's expression transformed into one of complete shock. 'There's another?' he asked uncertainly as he fell onto the sofa again. Liam's interest peaked and he moved closer to the burnt remains of the house. 'It's called an Alpha,' explained the brooding man. 'It's the most dangerous of our kind.'

_But where is it? _Liam thought impatiently, flexing his knuckles in order to keep him from busting down the door and beating out answers. He'd done that before and his sister's reaction had left him wary of ever doing it again.

'-My sister came here looking for it and now I'm trying to find it. But I can't do it alone. I need your help.' Liam then realised he'd zoned out for a bit of the conversation but he knew that they hadn't mentioned the location of the Alpha. 'Why me?' Scott asked, drained and confused. Liam empathised with him slightly. He remembered what it was like getting accustomed to new circumstances. Expect his had been far worse then the boy's before him.

'Because the Alpha bit _you. _You're part of his pack. It's you, you're the one he wants.'

Liam could only smirk at this last bit. _Sorcha had been right. Scott will lead us to the Alpha._ And they would find him. He couldn't hide from them. No one could.

Why?

Because it was _their _game and they had it down to an art.


End file.
